


Clothes of a Stranger

by Flakeblood



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Blood Mages, Blood Magic, Body Swap, Fade Spirits, Gen, Mind Control, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Not Really Character Death, Pining, Prompt Fic, Secret Crush, The Fade, applies to the OC only, honnleath but no focus on shale sorry, mcit2019, mentions of gore, more like body control, the warning is just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-08-10 00:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20126659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flakeblood/pseuds/Flakeblood
Summary: A one-week prompt challenge featuring various OCs and their adventures in Thedas.OCs become a spirit, experience blood magic first hand, body swap with their crush and more!(Why am I so mean to them?)





	1. Spirit Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so the major character death warning. It only applies to the OC, who in this prompt is a spirit, and doesn't experience death like you think of it. However, I am leaving the warning just in case some people are bothered by anything close.
> 
> That said, it applies to no other chapters, so enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your MCIT awakens in the fade as a spirit. What kind have they become and how do they handle it?

It isn’t like waking up; I simply start a new existence. Blink, and then I am.

It isn’t like being human, either. My doubts are gone, my endless questions and fears, the way my own thoughts would turn on each other until I was sick. Blink, and then my purpose comes to me. It feels familiar, welcome.

_Collect knowledge, learn._

And so I do.

I wander further than most spirits, not carving out any space in the Fade for a long time. Though time means little to nothing in the flexible realm of the Fade, I know it is a long time before I feel the need to begin storing my knowledge; My mind can hold more than it did when I was human.

I know many things, now. Some are new, like how Elvhen stories are told in various Dalish tribes, or the way the emotions of a city swayed when the king was killed. Some are old, like the fact that my human self would have been afraid, would not have wanted to feel so different, so suddenly, and without any warning or consent.

But I am not my human self. I think of her, from time to time. I keep her knowledge buried deep within me, unshared, because much of her knowledge was unknown by even higher beings. Sometimes, but not often, I will indulge in the sorts of knowledge she liked best: stories.

Adventure, monsters, vicious betrayals, family, youthful pining; So many views of the world, each carrying their own truth. They buzz within my being, carrying me through the quieter times.

Not many dreamers remember their stories accurately, but so long as they are entertaining, that little part of me that yearns for it is content.

Later, after even more time has passed, I find someone who remembers their stories too well.

He should not be here, but he is. He and five others walk the realm in physical bodies, radiating sheer life through their presence. He feels closer to the Fade than the others; Another one feels like a break in the world, and one feels darkened.

A spirit of faith is with them.

I approach once she is gone, only watching, but they sense my presence and confront me. I am not interested in answering their questions; I do not exist to teach. I turn to the one who feels less human, more like me.

“What is it like,” I ask, always curious, “To be a human when you were once a spirit?”

The boy-who-is-and-is-not-a-boy blinks. “What is it like,” he responds, “To be a spirit when you were once a human?”

The others make sounds of surprise, but I see his answer for what it is. He does not know, unsure how to answer. I nod, graciously, and allow the small silence of shared and opposite experiences.

“Hold on,” a human says, “This spirit was once human? Do you mean like the one that took the form of the Divine?”

The man is a mage, ostentatious and self-important. He has much knowledge on binding spirits; I do not like him.

“No,” answers the boy, “They are, they are different. They still hold the pain, the feelings and memories of being human.”

He pauses before speaking in almost a trance, “Dark, then light, so much, so new. Nothing works like it should in this realm. But then, it’s familiar, too, in a way. Never expected to be here, but the pain is gone.”

“Okay.” The human who speaks draws out the word. She has a marking on her face, reminiscent of blood. I know of her. Or I did when human. _Hawke_. “Doesn’t that just sound like the human died?”

“I did not,” I protest in a placcid voice. “I merely awoke.”

The one whose presence rends the world turns to the boy. “You said the pain is gone?”

“Yes. It hurt, but now it isn’t.” I nod to corroborate his statement.

“Then what’s the problem?” It’s the corrupted one, dark with what mortals call the Blight. I know this one too. _Alistair_. “We do have somewhere to be, so if we could find our way out before something eats us…”

“Really,” says the biggest, a scarred Qunari, “Why are we talking to so many _spirits_? This one is slowing us down.”

I hold still for a moment before realizing they may wish an answer from me. “I do not stand in your way. I was merely curious.”

They eventually move on, fighting more aggressive spirits. True to my word, I do not interfere. I watch from afar as they progress. They have landed in a dangerous part of the Fade, home to Nightmare, who gluts itself on the plentiful fears radiating from the physical realm. It is one I would prefer gone; Mortals do not preserve or gather knowledge as well when in constant fear.

When they finally reach Nightmare, the spirit of faith gives them an opening to escape. Her sacrifice fills me with a burning warmth I recognize as awe; In the face of such power, she hesitated not even a little. She saw the mortals who stumbled into the Fade as so worthy that she risked her own being for them. They are quick enough to rid themselves of some underlings before running.

One by one, the escape through a rift that connects the realms. They are almost all through when the heavy sense of Nightmare returns. It blocks three from the exit: the rift-maker, the tain- _Alistair_, and _Hawke_.

The two I know both offer to stay behind, to buy time for the others. They each look to the rift-maker for a decision when neither backs down.

My being twist in discomfort. In the same way I seek out stories, turning them over in my mind like river stones until they smooth, I yearn to find something here. It takes me almost too long to figure out what it is, as Alistair fights back pieces of Nightmare, the other two sprinting for the rift.

They turn back to look at him, and suddenly I know what I have to do.

Nightmare has overlooked my presence; I use that advantage to run into Alistair, sweeping him off his feet with a startled exclamation, and throw him at the rift.

Both parts of me--the part that never used strength over knowledge and the part which was physically weak--are surprised by just how far he flies. But once he’s collided with Hawke, they’re all out of the Fade.

A calmness more complete than anything I’ve felt up until then, as human or spirit, suffuses me. I’m still content even as Nightmare grabs me between sharp, powerful jaws, and bites down.

There is still no pain. I chose my path and I would do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought. :3 Doing one prompt week right after another is kind of exciting, despite the difficulty.
> 
> Um, at least everyone else survived? If you want to, you can consider the fact the OC might either just reform or become human again. Who knows! Haha.
> 
> I usually write in past-tense, but in this case, since spirits seem to live pretty in the moment, I thought present-tense fit better. Yeah? I hope I got everyone's character well described too. OC, as it turns out, doesn't much care for proper introductions. ^^;; So I hope it still made sense.
> 
> Anyway, have a nice day! I gotta go write some more since I'm a little behind.


	2. Magic Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic is meant to serve man, and never to rule over him. Write about your MCIT dealing with magic, good or bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Promises to catch up on free day* *Posts even later*

Blood magic was the literal worst. As he struggled within his own mind, against his own body, he felt absolutely justified in his conclusion. He could barely even tell where he was, or what he was doing. The tight grip around his soul only lifted a little when his name was called.

“Trevor!”

_That’s me_, he thought sardonically, but couldn’t make his lips so much as twitch.

Three people stopped in front of him: Hawke, Fenris, and Merrill. Oh, _fantastic_. No, these were exactly the people he wanted to see him puppeted about by a madman. Whether he believed in the Maker or not, he was certain some cosmic force was fucking with him.

“Ah, you’ve arrived.” The blood mage’s voice echoed both outside--through Trevor’s ears--and inside his head. Gross. “I was wondering if my new pet would get a chance to play.”

Trevor’s hearing went fuzzy afterwards and his body jerked forward. He vaguely felt a weapon in hand, and he went back to desperately straining against the control over his limbs; It didn’t seem to do much good.

He met with Fenris in combat, both Hawke and Merrill jumping back to focus on taking out the blood mage and canceling his spells. He couldn’t focus on them, because of his own fight, but he hoped they were winning.

Soon, Trevor was sporting several new bruises and cuts.

He would have grinned if he had control of his mouth. Fenris wasn’t going easy on him, even considering they were… well, friends at least. Several nights spent rolling around in bed suggested a little more. He started to get worried when Fenris disarmed him, flat side of his blade used to push Trevor to the ground.

Would the mage make him get up again? Would Fenris cut him down for being unable to control himself?

His heart hammered as he got one question answered: his body slowly lifted itself from the ground, the blood mage’s cursing filling Trevor’s brain. Before he could move though, he heard a shriek and staggered--under his own power--into Fenris’s arms. Was that a dying scream?

Trevor could feel himself tremble, and raised his arms, just to be sure. Yep, they were all his. He clenched his hands over the slim shoulders in front of him and tried to steady his breathing.

It took him a moment to realize several people called his name. He couldn’t answer. He knew he should feel better, but the sudden change in his equilibrium had him reeling. That and…

The carnage around him was easier to see, since Trevor could look around under his own power. The first, and arguably the best, thing he noticed was the body of the blood mage lying on the ground near Hawke and Merrill, dead. Thank the fucking Maker or whoever was in charge. Decidedly less wonderful were the other bodies. 

Trevor tried not to look too hard at them, but even with a brief scan it was difficult to ignore the way they had been treated. The blood mage had apparently kidnapped many before Trevor, and they had not fared so well.

Seeing them on the ground, mutilated and lifeless, Trevor felt a heat within himself. One of those bodies could have been him.

Recognizing the overwhelming roiling in his body, Trevor pushed away from Fenris and stumbled over to a few broken and rotted crates. He leaned over and retched.

The rest of his group talked in the background, but Trevor couldn’t bring himself to listen in; They were keeping their voices quiet anyway.

More images of tortured victims danced before his lids and he retched again. Was this his life? No quiet? Just day after day of horrible shit? He couldn’t handle it. The back of his hand wiped at his mouth despite the futility--his mouth tasted as terrible as he felt. 

“Trevor. Let’s go.” Fenris sounded cool and unaffected, but Trevor didn’t have the strength to really get angry.

“Yeah, of course. Get it together Trevor, it’s only a little blood magic control.” Though he apparently still had enough energy for sarcasm.

A hand settled on his shoulder, making Trevor tense. “That… is not what I meant.”

Trevor snorted. It hurt his throat. When he turned to give Fenris another scathing comment though, the elf’s face was, well, hesitant. It was hidden, but Trevor had spent enough time <strike>pining</strike> watching him to notice. Then Trevor noticed Merrill had crept closer too. She smiled, small and nervous.

“I can look you over. Make sure- Well, I’m sure you’re fine, of course, but you can never be too certain. And we do care about you.” She twisted her fingers together. “Oh, that’s too forward, isn’t it?”

Fenris didn’t contest anything, just squeezed his shoulder as his brows slowly drew together in a look Varric always described as ‘brooding.’ It hit Trevor like a punch to the face. Fenris was worried. For him. _Obviously_, Trevor.

He wiped at his mouth again, self-conscious, but stood up with the help of the hand which moved under his arm.

“Right, yeah.” He swallowed, despite the lingering sour taste, and looked over his companions. “Thanks.”

Their smiles didn’t fix everything, but he felt it was a good step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, well, I had trouble with this one. Not 100% sure what, but let me know if anything doesn't seem to make sense. Otherwise, huzzah! Another one down. It's progress, at least. ^^;


	3. Terrible Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Tuesday in Thedas. You know what that means. Everything goes wrong for your MCIT and their crew. Describe their worst day in Thedas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly the prompt, but I just needed to post it. It's been too long and I should've updated these a long time ago. ^^;

Marie had learned to hate Tuesdays. Something about them made everything in Thedas go topsy-turvy, and any normal Tuesday--normal being relative--was a small miracle.

The first truly terrible Tuesday had been when she stumbled upon a village. And abandoned village. That should have been the first clue, a big huge sign flashing “Turn Back!” But she didn’t, because she needed food; Looting was easier than foraging.

Despite the good amount of supplies she’d gathered, Marie should have been more wary. Especially as she entered the house of what looked like the town leader. Especially as he seemed to dabble in odd magics. But she didn’t truly realize the trouble she was in until she found a clearly demonic cat sealed behind a complicated rune. Fuck.

“Ah, one has come to play, after all this time,” said the demon.

Marie felt her lip curl in disgust. She’d made a habit of not dealing with demons while playing the game but… Well, she could either help it with proper precautions and possibly obtain useful information, or walk away… and earn its immediate wrath.

She took a breath to begin. “Okay, this is how it’ll go...”

After some intense bargaining, followed by rather clever and speedy puzzle solving--if Marie said so herself--the demon was nearly free. It was only as she was moving the last piece when she heard several footsteps coming cautiously down the stairs.

“Hurry!” the demon insisted.

“Don’t rush me,” Marie snapped, and the last piece slid into place just as the group became visible. A rush of energy flowed through the room, followed by a sound like shattering glass.

“That’s clearly not good,” said one man in Grey Warden armor. _Alistair_. Oh god, it was the hero’s group.

Everyone drew their weapons except for Marie, who had nothing but a knife meant for survival, not fighting. Instead, Marie backed up a step, then several more as the cat chuckled and stretched languidly into its demonic form, all obscenely graceful curves accentuated with animalistic sharpness.

“Oh my, how lovely to have so many to choose from after so long alone…” The demon turned towards Marie with a smile clearly hiding foul intentions.

Marie’s mind was one long litany of _‘fuckfuckfuck’_ as she slowly pushed her foot backwards, muscles tight in fear. She didn’t get much further when the demon lunged, and Marie screamed in horror.

Turning, she nearly tripped before lunging herself towards the only other people in the room. They might be willing to kill her for what she’d done, but at least she had a small chance of getting past them. Maybe they would be distracted by the obviously threatening desire demon.

They were of course--a demon was a big deal--but despite the two warriors and mabari going after it, the last person stood back and watched the scene. They watched Marie. She realized as she got closer--and the warriors stepped around her--the elf who stood back was a mage. A mage who looked angry with Marie.

She had no time to dwell on it though, as the mage’s angry looked suddenly morphed into one of shock and horror. “Move!” They yelled, but Marie was not quick enough.

A body slammed into her from behind, arms wrapping around her torso, and a seductive, dangerous voice whispered in her ear. “Hello dearest.”

Marie went to scream, but the shock of the demon wrapped around her made it come out as some sort of whimpering, high pitched whistle. The demon tugged at her hair, pulling her head back, so Marie could only see people beginning to surround them through the corners of her eyes.

“I’m taking this one,” the demon proclaimed, grip tightening. “The rest of you should leave.”

Marie’s breath hitched, and her eyes moved frantically from one person to the next, hoping to understand what they planned to do. Then her eyes met the elven mage who’d stared at her in anger.

Fine, delicate features pulled into a frown, brows lowered. “No.” Their voice was firm and louder in the space than it should have been.

The demon giggled, pitching both high and low, layered voice vibrating into Marie’s back. “That wasn’t an option.”

Marie was trying very hard not to hyperventilate, but when a sword was pointed towards her, she tried to squeak out, “No, wait-!”

The group did not wait, closing in on them. Marie felt a powerful magic course through her bones, lighting up all her nerves and making her scream, then she blacked out.

She awoke completely sore, a humming noise in her ears and dirt beneath her face. She groaned, softly, voice protesting however much she’d screamed earlier. The humming stopped, and too late she realized it had been human voices. Fuck. She couldn’t even turn her head to look up as footsteps approached her, so all she saw when she opened her eyes was the blurry shape of boots.

“You’re awake then.” Marie blinked at the voice. It was firm, not as high pitched as her own, but brought back a memory of… anger?

The elven mage, Marie realized. And they were travelling with some members of the main party of Origins so- ...Uh oh.

“I’m Alim,” the mage said, “A member of the Grey Wardens.” There it was. Dammit, how was Marie supposed to know the main characters were going to be there? She wouldn’t have bothered with the demon if she’d known. In fact, how had she missed them during her little raid of the town?

“We’ve found you and your… loot,” Alim continued. 

Ah, dammit. An apology itched at her tongue, but what good would it do? She was sorry, but not for the right reasons. She was mostly sorry she’d been caught. And would anyone care it was how she managed to survive so long?

“Because the demon had you at its mercy for a time, and we don’t know if you made some sort of deal, we’re keeping you in our sights until we can be sure of any lingering effects, and if we need to dispel them.” The mage sat down, and by just barely moving her head, Marie was able to see their face. They were wary, but didn’t have the same anger as their first meeting.

“Okay,” Marie croaked. Because what other choice did she have?

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” chimed in another voice behind her. The sarcasm and obvious suspicion in that one was clearly Alistair. “We’re just making sure you aren’t gonna go all, ‘Argh I’m a demon and I kill people,’ on the townsfolk.”

Marie wrinkled her nose. She could imagine Alistair making joking movements with his hands to emphasize his point. Alim chuckled--at Marie or Alistair she wasn’t sure--patted her shoulder, and left.

That left Marie with only herself and the ground, as whispering started up around her, too quiet for eavesdropping. She tried to at least move onto her side instead of her stomach, but felt something restraining her arms and legs. Rope? Marie flushed in anger and embarrassment. That wouldn’t stop a demon, and she wasn’t strong for a human. Also, the main party had to have checked her, to know she had no real weapons.

The whispering continued to reach her heated ears, and Marie squeezed her eyes shut. Worst. Day. Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so the next one was two combined, and it's... long. Like, it got 5k+ before I knew it, ahaha... So I guess look forward to that once I edit it up a bit.


	4. Thirsty Thursday & Freaky Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your MCIT is pining over someone! Write about their feelings— a date, or even just a friendship with one of the companions or canon characters.  
&  
Your MCIT has switched bodies with one of the companions by some magical means. What sort of shenanigans do they get up to and how do they fix it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final word count of this "brief one-shot": 8,476

“How did this happen?” I heard my own body lament. I couldn’t offer anything other than a shrug; It felt odd.

“Well don’t be so- so blasé about it! I haven’t heard of any magic like this.” Dorian held strands of my long hair between his fingers, looking at them in distaste. “Which means I don’t know how to reverse it.”

“Oh,” I said stupidly. I realized some part of me had been certain Dorian could come up with a magical means to reverse our sudden and unforeseen body swap. A small weight dropped into my stomach, but against the ones usually in my heart, I barely noticed the difference.

“Yes, so _try_ thinking of a solution. Or some way to cover this up at least.” When I opened my mouth to ask why we should bother with that, he flung out his arms and said, “I can’t walk about like this!”

A twinge in my face was the only sign of my annoyance. Surely it wasn’t all that terrible. My body wasn’t as well-defined as his was, but I had muscle appropriate for my job as an Inquisition scout. My time with the bow and traveling all over Ferelden and Orlais had increased my endurance, and since he was _in my body_ he should have been able to feel the muscle under my comfortable pudge. I hadn’t looked at my face from outside my own body before, but it wasn’t too different from the times I’d seen it in the mirror and pictures. It was rounded, with gentle curves and nut-brown eyes that I knew crinkled up when I smiled. They weren’t doing so now, of course, with Dorian’s distress. His main issue seemed to be my straight, ashy-blonde hair, which I grew and maintained at just past my shoulders. It wasn’t as though I usually left it loose though, I had been sleeping before we woke up with our current problem.

I sighed. “I’ll help you do your hair.”

“That- that isn’t the problem,” he said, immediately letting go of the strand he held as a pink flush crept up on--my?--his cheeks. “I have research I need to do, but I’m quite certain they won’t allow me to the more sensitive materials looking like, well, you rather than me. They only just started trusting me enough to not hover over my shoulder.”

“Unless we just tell them we switched bodies.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure that will go perfectly well,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Well, my voice. It sounded weird hearing so much emotion come out of it. It sounded weird just hearing it from outside my own head. “‘Yes hello, I’d like to access delicate and potentially dangerous mage-only reading materials. Who am I? Why, I’m Dorian Pavus, the mage from Tevinter, can’t you tell?’ It would never work.”

Even though I didn’t understand the problem with letting, at the very least, his main team know what had happened, I didn’t feel like arguing any longer. I agreed to keep it a secret, but warned him, “I’m not the best at acting.”

“Of course not.” Dorian let our an exhausted sound. “Let’s clean up first. Then we can figure out how to get both of us, or at least me, to the materials I need. There has to be something…”

I let him ramble as we headed to the bedrooms. His, specifically. It was a lot nicer than the barracks I shared with the other scouts, with the plush bed and bright fabrics strewn about the room, but I didn’t let myself linger too long. Dorian could be observant when not wrapped up in his own issues and I didn’t need him noticing where my attentions lay.

Since he was still muttering to himself, rather loudly, I directed him to a chaise lounge--how ostentatious--and told him to sit. 

I spent the next half-hour wrangling my own hair into a braid and pinning it up, all while constantly fighting against him turning his head as he spouted plan after plan for fixing our debacle.

“And, well, none of this will work half as well if we split up, will it?” Dorian groaned.

“I should just come with you to the library. It isn’t as though I’m banned.” I felt a small smile creep across my face as I thought of how I looked. “Especially not now.”

“Fine, fine. But let me just say, this will not end well.”

“None of your ideas would have ended well.” I hid my amusement at his protests by moving to search through his drawers for clothing. Apparently, we had shared a sense of urgency upon waking up in the wrong place and body, and had left our rooms in comfortable, too casual clothing. I hoped Dorian had something simple that would fit my body, and I could just wear one of his normal outfits.

‘Normal’ turned out to be a relative term, as I pulled bright robe after bright robe from the drawers.

“Don’t you have anything… darker?” I asked, holding up one in sunset orange.

“Darker?” he asked. “For what reason? We just agreed we weren’t sneaking around.”

I felt my nose scrunch up. “Well, find something that will fit… you. You in my body,” I clarified.

Dorian moved me out of the way and began rifling through various drawers, pulling out pieces of clothing--more than necessary for one person. I hoped all the neutral colors were for me. Or wait, for him? We were supposed to pretend to be each other, but the idea of wearing a green the color of a venomous wyvern made me feel ill.

“Here we are.” Dorian laid out each outfit along his lounge. “I’m aware of your, hm, tastes, but you do need to wear one of my usual outfits. I hope this is a good compromise.”

Looking it over, I felt impressed, a little flutter moving in my chest. The main part of the robe was the most colorful, a royal blue like the deep ocean caught in sunlight. The other parts that would hold it in place were a soft, stormy grey. Even the accessories were color-coordinated: deep blacks and silvers that would both call attention to the whole, then remain unobtrusive. It felt perfect; It felt like too much.

Even so, stomach and heart clenching, I nodded. “It will work.”

“Good. And this is the simplest thing I have. Fortunately, I think I can just put it on like so…” He did some complicated little wrap around himself, and by the time he was finished, it, well, actually fit my body. It wasn’t super flattering the way it would be for Dorian, but with the more neutral browns and greens it looked like it belonged on my body, so that was good enough.

I nodded in acceptance when he turned in a circle for me.

“Yes, I think this will work rather well,” he said. I watched as he puffed up a bit in front of the mirror, and suddenly felt a lot less comfortable. Watching my own body preen gave me a severe case of second-hand embarrassment. “Honestly, why don’t you wear things like this all the time? You see how the green brings out your eyes? Those lumpy beige monstrosities you normally wear are not nearly so flattering.”

I sighed and looked away, scratching at my arm. “It’s standard-issue uniform. It’s meant to make the scouts look, well, uniform.”

“Fascinating,” he said drolly.

“If you’re done checking me out,” I said, higher pitched than I meant, “We have some research to do?”

“Ah, yes yes, of course.” Dorian visibly pulled himself back to the present. “Right, let’s get on with it.”

The walk over as nothing short of awkward. I was certain I was getting more side-glances than usual, something I attributed to the fact that Dorian was a complete attention whore and _I was currently in his body_. People either sneered at me--not everyone saw past the Tevinter Mage label--or, in the case of several good-looking men, eyed me up unashamedly. Unused to such reactions, of any kind really, I felt that my walk was rather too stiff for Dorian’s usual swagger. Still, at least no one called me out on it.

Dorian himself, on the other hand, was drawing far too much attention. His normal way of walking was ego-centric, sure, but on me, with my more accentuated curves, it looked like I was about to call people over with a come-hither look. God, how embarrassing. I even saw some of my teammates staring like they wanted to come over and talk, but Dorian breezed past everyone like they were beneath him. It was the last thought that jolted me out of my stupor enough to speak.

“Hey,” I hissed, unsure if he’d berate me for using his name in public. “Can you at least try to tone it down.”

“Tone it down?” he hissed back. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, just, you aren’t acting like me at all.”

He shot me an exasperated look. “And how, pray tell, is that?”

“You’re ignoring every single person we come across, for one.”

“You do that.”

“No I- Well, I do, but differently.” He looked irritated. “Just, smile, or nod, or something. They aren’t, fucking, I don’t know statues or something, they’re people.”

Dorian sniffed. “We’re in a hurry.”

“So you treat people like shit cause you’re rushed?”

“It’s not rude, and I can’t be you,” he hissed with vehemence. “What do you expect, that I chat up your friends and have them notice immediately something’s wrong?”

“No! No, but they’re noticing anyway.” I pleaded, “Just, try. You’re the one who didn’t want to explain this. And I don’t want to have to convince them that I don’t hate them.”

“Fine.” He sighed through his teeth and gave a barely-trying smile to the next person we passed. With his teeth still clenched he said, “Then you try to look like you’re not attempting to shrink out of existence.”

I flinched, but straightened a little.

“Better. Chin up, in the literal sense, please. I worked hard to get respect, and I will not have people trampling all over me this month because of one bad day.”

My brows furrowed. I knew people didn’t necessarily get along with him, but the sheer number of hostile looks and his spoken worries made me wonder. A couple of fortifying breaths did me good, and I stood as proudly as I could, considering my preference for wanting to blend in. For the rest of the walk to the tower in which the library stood, I did my best to ignore all the stares around me. Perhaps there was something to it after all. I hated the way I felt when I met either hatred or unearned lust.

Finally, we stood at the bottom of the stairs.

“Ready?” Dorian questioned.

I nodded, not ready to speak.

He voiced my thoughts. “You’re going to have to do most of the talking, you know.”

“I’m aware,” I whispered. “Ideas?”

“Try to keep it short and to the point. But civil. I will need access to these materials after we’ve fixed our little… problem.”

I ran a hand down my face. “Yeah, of course, don’t mess with _your_ relationships, got it.” It came out more bitter than I’d anticipated, a fact he clearly cottoned on to as he sent me a look, quirked eyebrow and everything.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“That clearly was not nothing. If you’re going to have problems with-”

“I’ll try, okay? I just- Nevermind.” To avoid any more conversation, and possibly me spilling my guts, I began to walk up the stairs.

Once we reached the area, I noticed the people within look at me--well, Dorian’s body--differently. They were either pleasant, if distracted, or polite and friendly. It seemed Dorian had found companionship with his fellow scholars, if no one else. Perhaps this was what he’d spent his time earning. If anyone was willing to debate and come to different conclusions, scholars would have been my first bet.

I tried to smile back politely, but it was difficult to do that while keeping my posture straight; I’d constructed it around ideas of aloof strength, and that just didn’t mix with friendly greetings.

Dorian elbowed me, trying to show me a charming smile in my peripherals. _Shut up_, I thought to myself, _I know how to smile, thank you_. But I attempted to take his advice anyway. It must have worked well enough because we were soon at Dorian’s private nook, away from the entrance. I hadn’t even realized there was a little area hidden away during the times I’d come here, but my goal had nearly always been for Lelianna, not anywhere in the library.

No one else seemed to be around, so I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Now why isn’t it ever this easy when _I_ come up to research?” Dorian complained.

He immediately set to shuffling papers and combing through both book and journal alike. I took one more look around to make sure we weren’t being watched. I saw a few curious eyes, but nothing serious… yet. I ducked back in and spoke in a low voice to Dorian. “What can I help with?”

He shivered at my words, and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I was too close? I stopped leaning around him to see the table.

Dorian cleared his throat and turned his head. “Right, well, not sure how much help you’ll be. No offence meant, of course, it simply isn’t your area of expertise.”

I shrugged. “Is it yours?”

“I- Well, no. But I’m certainly more qualified than you are, in this instance.”

I hummed. He was right, after all. “Still, is there anything that’s uh, safe for me to look through?” I didn’t want anyone after me for reading secret mage-only materials. I thanked the Maker he seemed to catch my drift.

“If you insist, then here.” He quickly made a small stack of books. “They won’t be easy reading, I’ll have you know. Just keep an eye out for anything remotely similar to our situation.”

I lost track of time as I sat down to peruse the offered materials. Dorian was right; The books were thick with lingo I didn’t understand, and referenced concepts that I had no basis for, having never gone through mage training, or indeed, growing up with no magic at all. Still, I carried on. As much as I tried not to let the circumstances rattle me, being in Dorian’s body was beginning to feel, well, uncomfortable.

Not painful, certainly not. Still, each time I moved a limb, the feeling was too lanky, wrong. When I spoke, the words vibrated oddly in my head. Dorian was someone I would have enjoyed being closer too, but _being him_ was far too close.

Perhaps it was because I had lost track of time in the books, or it may have been because of my thoughts wandering to Dorian’s body, but when the harsh words, “What are you doing here?” whipped through the still air, I nearly jumped from my seat.

A middle-aged woman with harsh features and demeanor stood near the entrance, her arrival unnoticed by either of us, apparently, as Dorian dropped some papers to the ground in his haste to… clean up? Sit at attention? I wasn’t sure, but the woman lowered her brows in a fierce scowl. “Ser Pavus-”

“Please don’t call- er, him that.” Dorian fumbled. Was it his usual response?

The woman gave him--in my body--an unimpressed look. “I shall call him what I please while he rifles through my materials young man. Especially since he has brought a stranger here with no warning.”

Her glare turned to me. “Ah, yes, my apologies,” I said. Though I tried for the smooth cadence Dorian usually had, his expression told me my nervousness was causing me to miss the mark. “It was rather a bit of an emergency, you see-”

“Emergency or not Pavus, you know the rules,” she barked, “And you certainly know where to find me. One would almost think you left me out of the loop on purpose.”

My throat clicked as I opened my mouth to speak again; at this point, I was just bullshitting and hoping it turned out well.

“No no, of course not, let’s just- do that now, shall we?” I gestured to Dorian in my body. “This is Ceri. He’s helping me search for the answer to a particular question that, ah, Solas and I are working on.”

“You and Solas? Working together?” the woman barked a laugh. “Only if the Inquisitor was forcing you, perhaps.”

“It is important for the Inquisition,” Dorian said. He sounded far calmer than I did. “For her own scouting party. Dorian told me a bit, but it’s supposed to stay within a small group for now.” As he tried to radiate calm, I noticed that his charming grin looked really odd on my face. Like it didn’t quite fit.

The woman grumbled to herself before saying, “Very well. I shall be asking the Inquisitor of this, the next time they’re through. Until then.” She straightened, walking over to Dorian before explaining in a no-nonsense voice, “I am Mistress Sinclair. You will address me as such, or only as Mistress. I own the majority of these books, and my permission is necessary to use them. Do not think you can follow this one’s example.” She waved a hand over towards me.

Dorian nodded. “Yes, Mistress Sinclair.”

“Good. Then we understand each other.” She sniffed and turned around. “But I have other business to attend to at the moment, luckily for you. A good day to you gentlemen.”

I breathed out as she left.

“Again, far luckier than whenever I come alone,” Dorian muttered, frowning. “Why is it that people never seem to get upset with you?”

“Are you kidding?” I asked. “She didn’t look anything but upset, to me.”

Dorian snorted. “No, that was definitely her good side. Hm, perhaps it’s the baby face.” He patted at my cheeks.

I felt heat surge under my borrowed cheeks and looked back at the books. “Whatever. It’s just a face. Anyway, she said she was going to ask the Inquisitor about it, so I don’t think sneaking around is going to work.”

“It will,” Dorian said. He got up to move closer to me. “And besides, it only needs to work for a bit longer. “I’ve found something.”

The papers he thrust under my nose meant nothing to me, and I said so.

“Nevermind then,” Dorian said, gathering them together. “But we’ll need certain ingredients to help focus the poper energy.”

“Ingredient gathering,” I said to myself, “that I can do.”

“Excellent. Let me write out a list….”

Several minutes later, we had split up. Dorian had pushed and prodded my posture until I was walking with more “dignity.” And I whispered several different ways for him to greet people under my breath before we separated.

The looks were worse alone. I kept my posture as strong as I could, and my steps long and confident, if only to finish this faster. Unfortunately, some of my easiest ways of gathering things was to work together with people I knew. It wasn’t as though I could just walk up to them now and ask for assistance in getting- ...Wait. Why couldn’t I? The thought hit me so abruptly that I stopped walking. Why couldn’t I ask for help from some of the other scouts? That was our- their job, and Dorian, I knew, was respected enough as a member or the Inquisitor’s inner circle. Surely they would be willing to help.

With a plan in mind, I found it far easier to keep my steps proud. The first scout I saw, by some design of fate, was Scout Harding. Thank the Maker. The dwarf was a sweetheart; She was exactly the kind of person I’d hoped to run into.

“Scout Harding,” I called, and waited for her to notice as I walked up. I tried to think of how Dorian would phrase things. “Could I trouble you for some assistance in- in locating a few items?” Nice.

“Oh, Dorian.” Harding smiled a bit. “I’m not in the field again for a week, sorry.”

“Oh no, that’s alright, I meant erm, around here.” I cleared my throat. “There’s a list of things I need to find, here.” I pulled out the little list Dorian had written for me. As she perused the list I added, “I was hoping you could help with a few of them. Might make people less… antagonistic if you were to ask.”

Harding nodded, gave me a side glance, and pointed out a few from the list. “You mean like these.”

I felt my shoulders slump in relief and had to force them back up. “Yes, exactly. So?”

Harding sighed. “I really should get another person on this.”

“Oh, right! Yes, another scout is already on it. Ceri. I- I think.” I internally cursed myself as I stumbled over the last few bits. Didn’t want to seem like we knew each other too well.

“Oh, really?” Harding looked surprised. “I didn’t think he’d have the courage to- ah. Nevermind.” She waved away the thought with a hand, but I felt my eyes narrow. Suspicious.

“What?” I asked.

“No, really, it’s nothing,” she insisted. “Ceri is really helpful. I’m not surprised he agreed. Just.”

I waited, but her pause dragged on until I prompted, “Just…?”

“Go easy on him, okay?” Her voice lowered, like a shared secret. And wasn’t it? I felt I wasn’t meant to hear it at all when Harding said, “He’s worked hard, but he is a soft soul. And you’re someone he… thinks well of. So.”

I blinked. A few seconds later, I realized she wanted a response. “I see. I’ll hardly be cruel to him.”

“I know!” Harding waved her arms a bit more. “Not intentionally, of course. But.” Her voice flattened out. “If you lead him on, I’ll make your life here a nightmare, you hear me?”

I leaned back, almost tempted to scoot farther away. Who knew Harding could be so intimidating and dark, wow.

“I understand,” I said, a little breathless.

“Good. I’ll grab those items for you and drop them off near your rooms.” She pushed the paper back to my chest and walked away. If I hadn’t known her as well, I might’ve missed the embarrassed flush. Ah, that was more in line with the leader I knew.

I shook my head, looking back over the list. At least I knew someone else was looking out for me.

It didn’t take much longer for me to gather what I needed, considering I had lessened my load. So it was no surprise I made it back to Dorian’s rooms before he did, nor that Harding had apparently been there and left, a pile of items left on the desk. She was a quick one.

I settled back onto the chaise lounge and allowed myself a moment of rest.

The moment must’ve been longer than anticipated, because I woke to my own face staring back at me. I jumped and let out a little shriek before I remembered my predicament.

“Good day to you as well,” Dorian said drolly. “How many people can say they’ve been startled by their own faces?”

“Urgh, shut up,” I grumbled, cranky from the nap and surprise. “Did we get everything?”

“Yes. Though I wonder why I was stopped on my way back and given a warning to be careful around myself.” Dorian crossed his arms and looked at me expectantly.

“...Scout Harding?” I guessed.

“The same.”

“Forget it,” I said, feeling blood pool in my cheeks so that I had to look at the floor. “She’s just overprotective. Apparently.”

Dorian hummed. “Well, it’s not as though I’m unused to it.”

I watched him circle over to the desk and begin pulling various substances out of their containers. His meaning hit me as I remembered all the stares.

“That’s not what she meant at all.”

“Isn’t it?” Dorian said, voice sharp.

“No, no, she talked to me too. I mean, she thought she was talking to you. She doesn’t hate you, I know her. But she gave me a speech because, uh…” I felt Dorian’s gaze bore into me as I looked at my hands. I flexed them. They were too slim. “I guess she thinks I’m weak, or too soft, or something. I don’t know. I feel like she’s talked like this to several others as well.”

And god did I try my best not to think of the verbal lashing she must’ve given Krem. How embarrassing. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault I had, well… crushes. Yes, I liked Dorian, and it had only taken a body swap to get me to admit it, even to myself. Harding really was sharp. No wonder she ran the scouts.

Dorian didn’t say anything, but when I looked, his brow had smoothed out, so he was probably more contemplative than upset. I let him be, instead just watching as he measured out the ingredients. Eventually, he tossed me a stick of chalk.

“We need to draw out a proper glyph. The paper is here-” he held it out in one hand. “Do you think you can draw it out? We can’t have any mistakes.”

I took the page and looked at the design. “Um, sure.” I said. My own attempts at painting and sketching had usually been smaller, but I could probably mark out a circular space first to make it easier. “Do you just want it on the floor?”

“Yes, that’s fine. Move the rugs.”

I did so, then got lost in the process of drawing out arcane symbols. I wondered how they all worked together. Were they automatically magic, or did they need a mage to make them special?

“Hey Dorian,” I asked. He hummed to let me know he was listening. “How do glyphs work? I’ve seen mages basically conjure them, so I always figured you needed magic for them to work, but if I can just draw this out-”

“No,” Dorian said. I looked up at his tone, startled at the amount of worry he’d put into it. “Oh no, how could I have-?” He made a noise of frustration and slammed his hands on the table.

“What?” I asked, alarmed, “What is it? What happened?”

“You’re in my body, but you have no training in the magical arts,” he said, waving his arms about in frustration. “We can’t complete this without at least one properly trained mage.”

“And we haven’t told anyone,” I finished.

“We _can’t_ tell anyone,” he corrected.

“I still don’t understand that,” I said. “What do you think will happen?”

“Ridicule? Disbelief? My body in stocks, possibly. And really, what proof do we have?”

I opened my mouth to protest--our own memories were proof, weren’t they?--when a knock on the door stopped me.

“Ser Dorian?” a timid voice said, “There’s a meeting to be held soon, with the Inquisitor. They wished you to be notified.”

I shot Dorian a panicked look. He sent me one back, but gestured as though to say, _You see? You want to tell them now?_ And I felt I understood his hesitance.

“Will you be attending?” the voice asked.

Dorian pushed both his hands in a go-on movement. “Yes,” I answered, then cleared my voice to speak louder. “Yes of course, you may tell them I’ll be there soon.”

Dorian and I stayed quiet until the footsteps left.

“This is a disaster,” I hissed, hands going to my hair before realizing how little there was to hold on to. “What do I say? How do I act? Am I allowed to hear the sorts of things discussed? What if they want my opinion? Did-”

“Alright!” Dorian interrupted. He walked over and placed his hands on my shoulders. “Alright, enough.”

I looked up at my own face, trying to breathe. The stone floor bruised my knees. Steady breathing held back any burning tears, though I was sure Dorian could see a hint of them. I opened my mouth, only to close it again, sucking in air through my teeth to stave off any more anxiety babble.

“Right, okay, this may be an opportunity. No, listen to me,” he said, cutting off my despairing laugh before it could get started. “We need a mage. The only two mages I trust with something this delicate will be there. Well. Three, I suppose. Though I don’t expect he would be overly pleased to help.”

The only noise that escaped me was small, a questioning thing. My brain was so filled with disaster scenarios I couldn’t think of who he might mean. A shake to my shoulders got me to focus.

“You have only one objective when you go to the meeting.”

“One?” I asked, hysteria working into my tone.

“Yes. Just the one. Talk to a mage. Vivienne, Solas, or İlkay. Pick one. You know who they are, correct?”

I felt myself nod.

“Good. Talk to one of them and convince them to come here, to help with the spell.”

“How?” I whispered.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?”

Dorian hesitated. He looked at me for a few moments before saying, hesitantly, “No. No, just get one of them to come here and help perform the spell. We can explain afterwards, if necessary. I’ll take whatever blame they throw, not to worry. They’ll likely try to pin it on me anyway.”

“But. It wasn’t, neither of us did this.”

“I wasn’t aware that mattered,” he said, voice absolutely laden with salt. I scrunched my nose at his tone. He shook his head and his expression cleared. “Well. You know what to do?”

“I- Sure. Talk to someone above my rank and lie my ass off.”

He blinked once, then appeared to be trying to smother the smile that crept across his face. “That’s one way to put it. Go on then, they’ll be expecting you, or me rather, to show up soon.”

As I moved towards the door, a sort of haze settled over me. I looked back and caught Dorian’s encouraging hand motion, but couldn’t feel my own face. A word that might’ve been, “Okay,” escaped me, though it sounded more like a whine.

The hallways were a blur, Dorian’s body moving according to my will, but with a sense of detachment. It was as though I moved within a bowl of noodles, my limbs too limp and the air hot.

I snapped back to myself once the large meeting room doors loomed before me.

This was happening. I would walk through--as Dorian--and talk to twelve high ranking people who’d never looked twice at me before.

“Oh, help,” I whispered.

Since there would be no help forthcoming, other than my brain providing a clipped rendition of Julie Andrews singing _I have confidence_, I pushed open the doors and peeked in.

The first thing I noticed was that not everyone was looking at me, thank the Maker. The next was that there were significantly less people than I’d expected to see. Solas and Vivienne were both there, as well as the Inquisitor--İlkay?--and their three advisors, but Cassandra was the only other member of the inner circle present. “Oh good.” At least there were less people to fool.

The Inquisitor looked up at my words, and I was so, so glad Dorian’s body didn’t blush bright the way mine did. Fortunately, they just gave a small smile and beckoned me. “You’ve arrived, Dorian. Good.”

“Er, yes.” I mentally smacked myself and tried to make up for it by walking confidently into the room.

“It’s only us today,” said the Inquisitor. “We need some mage perspectives.”

Channeling my inner Dorian, I responded, “And here I was worried I’d need to address the whole council.”

They chuckled, but a few of the other members had sour looks on their faces. More than odd, it was intimidating to see such powerful people showing me such disdain, even if it wasn’t actually me they meant to aim it at.

“Right,” Commander Cullen cut in, “Let’s get to it.”

Several minutes into the Commander laying out the scenario, I was absorbed. It turned out that the rundown was not unlike the scout briefings I received before getting deployed into the field. The Inquisition was chasing down a group of mage cultists who followed Dumat, and thus, eagerly fell in line with Corypheus. Troop placements, resource lines, goals, setbacks--it was all intimately familiar to me. It was even more so when I learned where our scouts were stationed and what they were doing. Why had it been made so difficult for them?

“And this is where the three of you come in,” Cullen intoned. He looked up from the map and eyed each of us in turn--the two mages and myself. “What sorts of movements, based on each of your own experiences, would this group be likely to make? What sorts of power could we expect from them?”

Vivienne, sharp as always, quickly dissected probabilities on what the mages would be able to do based on their current resources and help. Solas delved further into his own experiences fighting them, and what they seemed capable of magically. I felt them all turn to me for my own opinion, but this time, their searing gazes unnerved me not at all. I frowned down at the map.

“It doesn’t matter what their abilities are.” I could hear the shocked murmurs around me, but simply tapped near a mountain pass. “Why haven’t scouts been sent to this location?”

Commander Cullen’s brow furrowed. “I’ve mentioned before, that’s where we hoped to encourage the mages to head. If we were to put the scouts in harm’s way-”

“Then they’d be better able to do their job.” I was getting several nasty looks at that, but I plowed on, reassured of my own convictions and belief in my teams. “With all due respect Commander, each and every scout knows what they are signing up for. They know their own strengths and when to pull back. I’m sure Scout Harding would say the same, if you don’t believe me. Placing them here-” I tapped the pass on the map for emphasis, “-would allow for better organization within the troops, and would especially help the scouts to keep an eye on any developments. Hell, if you sent scouts there first to secure the pass, it would be even easier to set up whatever trap or ambush you’re hoping to pull off. They _are_ the most mobile teams of the Inquisition.”

I couldn’t help the pleased, crooked grin on my face, and hoped it looked even remotely like one of Dorian’s usual expressions. “That’s what I’ve got to say on the matter.”

“That isn’t why you were called here at all,” Cassandra said, displeasure clear. “Others take care of the scouts movements. You were asked only for your expertise with magic.”

I raised a brow at her, glancing at the way the Inquisitor and Leliana hovered over the map, talking in low tones, while Cullen looked… well either thoughtful or constipated.

Josephne’s look was difficult to parse, but she was always too good for me to read her emotions, no matter when I had caught sight of her. Neither of the other mages looked particularly impressed though, and the embarrassment and righteous indignation swirling around in me built up just enough that I felt a need to release it.

“I’m sorry,” I said, in a sarcastic tone barely concealed as contrite, “I thought we were called here to assist with a plan. If you didn’t want my input or suggestions, you needn’t have called me here.”

Scowling deeply, Cassandra made to move towards me--causing my heartbeat to ratchet up--before Cullen put out an arm to stop her. The Inquisitor had apparently made some sort of decision, as they stood straight.

“The suggestions have merit,” they said. “We can discuss the details with Scout Harding, since she’s here on break from the field.” Then their eyes turned to me, and I felt a jolt to my spine as I tried to make myself as attentive as possible. “I presume you spoke with her earlier today?”

Fear flit through me, halting my lungs as I realized I had _no idea _how Dorian usually addressed, well, anyone so important. Were they close? Only colleagues? It could be different in a professional setting like a meeting. Besides, calling them İlkay was impossible for me.

Deciding to go with something casual and respectful I said, “Er yes, Inquisitor. For a short time.”

The Inquisitor only nodded, and I breathed a mental sigh of relief. 

Cullen sighed, as if he was the one who’d had so much frustration aimed at him. “If that’s all then, Leliana and I can discuss the potential plan with Scout Harding.”

Leliana nodded. “I’m certain she will be most helpful in deciding the specifics.”

“Thank you. If there’s nothing else?” the Inquisitor asked. No one spoke up, though I still felt a couple glares. “Madam Vivienne, Solas, Dorian, thank you. We appreciate your help.”

With the three of us clearly dismissed, the other two mages left the room, and I quickly followed. Okay, show time. These two were my best shot. Get one alone and ask them to reverse a curse, or whatever had happened to Dorian and I. Get them to agree even though they both think I’m Dorian and neither one gets along with him. My stomach flipped like it wanted to swoop up my throat, but I swallowed my trepidation back down. I had to try.

Solas or Vivienne?

Running on instinct, I called out, “Madam Vivienne, might I have a word?”

The mage turned around, graceful and purposeful with her movements as always. “Yes darling? What is it?”

Solas barely shifted his head to listen, even as he kept walking. I wasn’t sure if he would stay just on the other side of the door up ahead to listen, but my paranoia was too great to risk that. I decided to get right to the point, or as much as I could without coming across as crazy.

“It’s about an, er, odd spell I came across recently,” I started. Right, the truth but edited for eavesdropping ears. “I was hoping I could parse everything out today, but I realized I would need help with one particular part.”

Vivienne didn’t look shocked, but she was also an adept player of the Game in Orlais. Her poker face was something else.

It didn’t help that Solas had slowed down to open the door, and the ones leading to the meeting room might open any second.

I swallowed, a lot of my bravado leaving me. “If you weren’t busy- or aren’t, rather, and you don’t mind lending a hand-”

“What sort of spell is it?” Vivienne asked. “Something you’ve never come across? Even in Tevinter?”

I paused, thinking that probably no one had ever come across this spell before. Though it couldn’t be true if Dorian could reverse it, right? When my pause was going to be too long I simply said, “It’s nothing I’ve ever heard of, for whatever that’s worth.”

Vivienne hummed. “I do have some free time today, so I suppose I could at least take a look at it for you.” I started to relax and almost smile when she said, “Perhaps that would negate your need to experiment with things you don’t understand.”

I frowned, but didn’t object. Having two mages work on reversing it was exactly what Dorian had wanted. Or rather, he wanted at least one mage in their own body who could cast the reversal spell.

“Well…” I said, thinking of some way to respond, “Thank you.”

There, polite and it confirmed her assistance. I decided to make my way towards Dorian’s room, Vivienne behind me. She made no further comments, though her stare drilled into the back of my skull. Solas was gone when we stepped into the main hall, thank the Maker, and there were few people who acknowledged us between there and the rooms.

Vivienne finally spoke up when we were in the correct hallway. “Are we going to your private room? I was under the impression you needed me for study. I’m not interested in anything else.”

I sighed. “This is where all the ingredients are.”

As I pushed the door open, I heard her echo, “Ingredients? That is for casting, not research.”

I lead her into the room, impressed at her confidence even through odd changes of plan--at least as she saw it. Her eyes were immediately drawn to Dorian in my body, then to the array on the floor and various herbs and concoctions.

“Dorian. Explain this.”

Before I could even open my mouth Dorian himself spoke up. “Hello Vivienne. I’m aware these are rather odd circumstances but, well, when aren’t they these days?”

Vivienne’s brows went up, giving her the look of a teacher searching for a student’s falsehoods. Well, she was just going to be even more confused if she didn't get answers. Shrugging, I gave her a wry grin as she turned back to face me.

“We switched bodies.”

Dorian stuttered. “What did we agree on?” He sounded both upset and nervous.

“Yeah but, wouldn’t she figure it out anyway from the spell?”

“That isn’t the point you know. You can’t just blurt these things out and expect people to believe you!”

“You are from the scouts then?” Both of us startled a Vivienne’s astute statement. She was observing me as she said it. All I could do was tilt my head and pull one shoulder up like, ‘You caught me.’ She nodded. “Your statements in the meeting make more sense in that regard.”

Dorian shot me a look, so I rubbed the back of my neck and looked at one of the tapestries on the wall.

“Still, how did such a thing come to happen?” Vivienne asked.

“We aren’t sure,” said Dorian. “We woke up in this state, and there’s no way around what’s happened without your help. After all, Ceri isn’t a mage.”

I felt my heart jump as Dorian said my name.

“I see,” said Vivienne. “So you need someone with control over their magic to assist you.”

“If you would be so kind,” Dorian said, less sarcastic and more weary of the whole thing.

“Then let me see your work, darling. Better to have two sets of eyes look it over before we begin. And I’d presume your friend-” she waved a hand at me in Dorian’s body, “-was not able to check your process.”

“Not really,” I muttered.

Vivienne gave me a small smile and got to work. The two mages talked things over, looking at notes and books and comparing substances, all while I sat down on the chaise and did… well, nothing.

Wasn’t much I could do at this point, which annoyed me. It also gave me far too much time to think. Why did Vivienne believe us so readily? Surely she had more questions about what was going on. So far though, she seemed to take it at face value. Maybe she had come across something in her studies Dorian hadn’t. Maybe she was looking through the work to see if we were telling the truth. But thinking about it wouldn’t get me anywhere; I’d have to ask Vivienne, and she was busy.

I laid down on the chaise.

What felt like only several moments later, I opened my eyes to someone shaking me.

“-up, Ceri. And now look, you’ve gone and ruined my hair.” My own body patted at my head and pulled me into a sitting position, ostensibly to place some stray hairs in order, but I just blinked and brushed them away.

“Didn’t mean to sleep,” I said with a small yawn, “Again. You need a better sleep schedule. Are we ready?”

Dorian huffed, his disgruntled expression looking odd on my face. It looked more like a pout, and I wondered if that was why some people didn’t take me seriously. “Yes, Vivienne and I have finished preparations. For the most part.”

“There’s a specific couple of steps you must be present for, my dear,” Vivienne said. She stood on the other side of the glyph drawn into the floor.

With Dorian tugging on my shoulder and Vivienne gesturing to a place within the glyph, I settled in and waiting for the next part.

Vivienne then set about checking--or double checking--the concoctions and herbs around the glyph before summoning magic to her hands. The glyph glowed with a faint light, small motes floating up a few feet before winking out, like some odd combination of fireflies and snow.

“Now then, you two will have to move into the proper position and hold it the entire time I’m completing the spell. If you two lose connection, it will not work, and we do not know what the exact consequences may be,” Vivienne warned. “Do you understand dears?”

I locked eyes with Dorian, feeling faintly alarmed, but the man just shrugged. “Yes, of course.” The he turned to me and held out both of his hands, palm up.

It took me a moment, and maybe Vivienne telling me to do so, but I eventually reached out and placed my hands within… my hands. Hm. Well, maybe it was more like placing Dorian’s hands within the ones he held out to me. I wasn’t sure, but I’d be glad when we were in our own bodies, if for no other reason than things like that making more sense.

Dorian felt warm. It was odd to think about because _this was my own body_, but as I squeezed at the slightly larger fingers, the warmth seemed to transfer to me, up my arms, flooding my face. Would this be what Dorian felt, if we held hands in our own bodies?

My body’s hands were warm, a bit calloused, but firm. It was nice; a contrast to Dorian’s more slender, smoother fingers.

Vivienne had begun chanting the spell while I was distracted by my own thoughts. Brighter light filled the room, and I watched as it haloed all of us in shifting yelows and pale blues. It moved around our bodies, and actually seemed to compliment mine, brightening my ashy blonde hair and sparkling in my dark eyes. My heart stuttered when I realized Dorian had been watching me, too.

Vivienne’s voice raised, the magic swirling faster, and my sight began to go fuzzy. My fingers tightened, and I felt the others squeeze back.

An odd sensation ran through my chest, like all the air had been punched out of me hard enough to leave me tingling. I felt disconnected from my own body, like my mind was dissociating and floating away. Under the forced calm, I panicked. I was no longer completely in Dorian’s body, but being suspended in the air was _not_ preferable. However, my mind, or soul, or whatever it was, could only twitch, unable to move within the hold of magic.

Then a feeling like I was being tugged, a feeling surprisingly close to a vacuum, latched onto me. Quicker than the rest of the process, I was drawn forward and thrust back into flesh, the tumbling disorienting me even more than the sudden pinching of the body now wrapped around me.

I lost my balance, tripping forward into a broad chest, and we both went down.

It took a few seconds to register, what with my mind still spinning around, but the “Oof,” of pain I’d caused sounded… correct. More than anything had all day.

I raised my head to confirm and found the magic gone, Dorian laying on the ground beneath me.

“I-it worked!” I exclaimed, my smile growing at the sound of my own voice.

“Hooray,” Dorian wheezed. “Get off.”

As I scrambled up, still unbalanced from the experience, I noticed Vivienne step forward.

“Well, I suppose that’s it then. Should you notice any ill effects, you should come to me immediately. Either or both of you.” She gave Dorian and I stern stares, waiting for each confirmation, then turned and strode out of the room.

I sighed, patting at my own face. Dorian groaned and stretched, standing as well.

“That was certainly… something,” he said. “Let’s not do it again.”

I shook my head and laughed nervously. “No, definitely not.”

And even though he’d just suggested the same, Dorian placed a hand on his chest as though insulted. “You didn’t enjoy being me?” he joked.

“Oh, uh, I’ll leave the magic and terrifying meetings to you.” I rubbed at the back of my neck.

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Come on, stand up straight.” He pushed and prodded me into a more confident pose, even as he ushered me to the door. “There’s no reason to forget what we’ve learned.”

“Yeah, right, of course,” I babbled, trying my best to simply stand with Dorian’s hands on me.

Outside his room, I turned back, surprised to see a thoughtful look on his face. Struck with the sudden urge, feeling I probably should tell him now that I knew, I said, “Get some more sleep. Please.”

He blinked at me, then smiled. It was more tentative than his usual smirks, and my heart fluttered.

“Yes yes,” he said, waving me off. “See you tomorrow.”

And he closed the door.

A deep sigh came up through my body as I walked through the halls, back towards the scouts’ sleeping areas. That was over. Back to looking at him from afar- ...wait. I paused, putting a hand to a wall. Dorian’s words came back to me, echoing like a choir in my head. _See you tomorrow._

Did he mean it? Could it be? My heart picked up speed.

I would do so many things to see him, I wanted to so badly. Learning more about him, practically living a day of his life, had only fueled my crush. What excuse could I use to go see him? I knew myself, shy and embarrassed, and I definitely needed to get away from work properly if I didn’t want interruptions, so how-?

My other hand had clenched in my shirt, and I looked down. The shirt was Dorian’s. Nearly the whole outfit was. Heat spread through my whole body at the same time a smile pulled at my cheeks.

That was as good a reason was any. With a lightness to my steps--one I hadn’t felt in weeks--I made my way to my room, anxious for the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't think this would be my holiday post, but you know, here we are! Have some cute shit. Hope everyone has managed to get some relax time in. Stay sane guys, this time of year can make magical accidents look easy to deal with, you know? ^^; Find something fun for you! You deserve it!  
(If part of that something is this fic, I'm flattered.)
> 
> Two more prompts down, two to go! Those may be combined as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! If you'd like little sneak peeks of future works, or to commission one shots like these, **[I have a ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/flakeblood)**, where you can buy me a small "coffee" to help me out. (人´ω｀*)♡


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